Ten Years Later

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Baisemeaux took the register, hastily restored it to itsplace in the closet, which he locked, and put the key in hispocket. "Will it be agreeable to your lordship to breakfastnow?" said he; "for you are right in supposing thatbreakfast was announced."

"Assuredly, my dear governor," and they passed into thedining-room.

CHAPTER 99

The Breakfast at Monsieur de Baisemeaux's

Aramis was generally temperate; but on this occasion, whiletaking every care of his constitution, he did ample justiceto Baisemeaux's breakfast, which, in all respects, was mostexcellent. The latter, on his side, was animated with thewildest gayety; the sight of the five thousand pistoles,which he glanced at from time to time, seemed to open hisheart. Every now and then he looked at Aramis with anexpression of the deepest gratitude; while the latter,leaning back in his chair, took a few sips of wine from hisglass, with the air of a connoisseur. "Let me never hear anyill words against the fare of the Bastile," said he, halfclosing his eyes; "happy are the prisoners who can get onlyhalf a bottle of such Burgundy every day."

"All those at fifteen francs drink it," said Baisemeaux. "Itis very old Volnay."

"Nay, nay! You are a musketeer still, to the very tips ofyour fingers, while I have become a bishop. A taste for me;a glass for yourself."

"As you please." And Aramis and the governor nodded to eachother, as they drank their wine. "But," said Aramis, lookingwith fixed attention at the ruby-colored wine he had raisedto the level of his eyes, as if he wished to enjoy it withall his senses at the same moment, "but what you might calla resemblance, another would not, perhaps, take any noticeof."

"Most certainly he would, though, if it were any one whoknew the person he resembles."

"I really think, dear M. Baisemeaux, that it can be nothingmore than a resemblance of your own creation."

"Upon my honor, it is not so."

"Stay," continued Aramis, "I have seen many persons verylike the one we are speaking of; but, out of respect, no oneever said anything about it."

"Very likely; because there is resemblance and resemblance.This is a striking one, and, if you were to see him, youwould admit it to be so."

"If I were to see him, indeed," said Aramis, in anindifferent tone; "but in all probability I never shall."

"Why not?"

"Because if I were even to put my foot inside one of thosehorrible dungeons, I should fancy I was buried thereforever."

"No, no; the cells are very good places to live in."

"I really do not, and cannot believe it, and that is afact."

"Pray do not speak ill of second Bertaudiere. It is really agood room, very nicely furnished and carpeted. The youngfellow has by no means been unhappy there; the best lodgingthe Bastile affords has been his. There is a chance foryou."

"Nay, nay," said Aramis, coldly; "you will never make mebelieve there are any good rooms in the Bastile; and, as foryour carpets, they exist only in your imagination. I shouldfind nothing but spiders, rats, and perhaps toads, too."

"Toads?" cried Baisemeaux.

"Yes, in the dungeons."

"Ah! I don't say there are not toads in the dungeons,"replied Baisemeaux. "But -- will you be convinced by yourown eyes?" he continued, with a sudden impulse.

"No, certainly not."

"Not even to satisfy yourself of the resemblance which youdeny, as you do the carpets?"

"Some spectral-looking person, a mere shadow; an unhappy,dying man."

"Nothing of the kind -- as brisk and vigorous a young fellowas ever lived."

"Melancholy and ill-tempered, then?"

"Not at all; very gay and lively."

"Nonsense; you are joking."

"Will you follow me?" said Baisemeaux.

"What for?"

"To go the round of the Bastile."

"Why?"

"You will then see for yourself -- see with your own eyes."

"But the regulations?"

"Never mind them. To-day my major has leave of absence; thelieutenant is visiting the post on the bastions; we are solemasters of the situation."

"No, no, my dear governor; why, the very idea of the soundof the bolts makes me shudder. You will only have to forgetme in second or fourth Bertaudiere, and then ---- "

"You are refusing an opportunity that may never presentitself again. Do you know that, to obtain the favor Ipropose to you gratis, some of the princes of the blood haveoffered me as much as fifty thousand francs."

"Really! he must be worth seeing, then?"

"Forbidden fruit, my lord, forbidden fruit. You who belongto the church ought to know that."

"Well, if I had any curiosity, it would be to see the poorauthor of the distich."

"Very well, we will see him, too; but if I were at allcurious, it would be about the beautiful carpeted room andits lodger."

"Furniture is very commonplace; and a face with noexpression in it offers little or no interest."

"But a boarder at fifteen francs is always interesting."

"By the by, I forgot to ask you about that. Why fifteenfrancs for him, and only three francs for poor Seldon?"

"The distinction made in that instance was a truly nobleact, and one which displayed the king's goodness of heart togreat advantage."

"The king's, you say."

"The cardinal's, I mean. `This unhappy man,' said M.Mazarin, `is destined to remain in prison forever.'"

"Why so?"

"Why, it seems that his crime is a lasting one, and,consequently, his punishment ought to be so, too."

"Lasting?"

"No doubt of it, unless he is fortunate enough to catch thesmall-pox, and even that is difficult, for we never get anyimpure air here."

"Nothing can be more ingenious than your train of reasoning,my dear M. de Baisemeaux. Do you, however, mean to say thatthis unfortunate man must suffer without interruption ortermination?"

"I did not say he was to suffer, my lord, a fifteen-francboarder does not suffer."

"He suffers imprisonment, at all events."

"No doubt; there is no help for that, but this suffering issweetened for him. You must admit that this young fellow wasnot born to eat all the good things he does eat; forinstance, such things as we have on the table now; thispasty that has not been touched, these crawfish from theRiver Marne, of which we have hardly taken any, and whichare almost as large as lobsters; all these things will atonce be taken to second Bertaudiere, with a bottle of thatVolnay which you think so excellent. After you have seen ityou will believe it, I hope."

"Yes, my dear governor, certainly; but all this time you arethinking only of your very happy fifteen-franc prisoner, andyou forget poor Seldon, my protege."

"Well, out of consideration for you, it shall be a gala dayfor him; he shall have some biscuits and preserves with thissmall bottle of port."

"You are a good-hearted fellow; I have said so already, andI repeat it, my dear Baisemeaux."

"Well, let us set off, then," said the governor, a littlebewildered, partly from the wine he had drunk, and partlyfrom Aramis's praises.

"Do not forget that I only go to oblige you," said theprelate.

"Very well; but you will thank me when you get there."

"Let us go, then."

"Wait until I have summoned the jailer," said Baisemeaux, ashe struck the bell twice, at which summons a man appeared."I am going to visit the towers," said the governor. "Noguards, no drums, no noise at all."

"If I were not to leave my cloak here," said Aramis,pretending to be alarmed; "I should really think I was goingto prison on my own account."

The jailer preceded the governor, Aramis walking on hisright hand; some of the soldiers who happened to be in thecourtyard drew themselves up in line, as stiff as posts, asthe governor passed along. Baisemeaux led the way downseveral steps which conducted to a sort of esplanade; thencethey arrived at the draw-bridge, where the sentinels on dutyreceived the governor with the proper honors. The governorturned toward Aramis, and, speaking in such a tone that thesentinels could not lose a word, he observed, -- "I hope youhave a good memory, monsieur?"

"Why?" inquired Aramis.

"On account of your plans and your measurements, for youknow that no one is allowed, not architects even, to enterwhere the prisoners are, with paper, pens or pencil."

"Good," said Aramis to himself, "it seems I am an architect,then. It sounds like one of D'Artagnan's jokes, whoperceived in me the engineer of Belle-Isle." Then he addedaloud: "Be easy on that score, monsieur; in our profession,a mere glance and a good memory are quite sufficient."

Baisemeaux did not change countenance, and the soldiers tookAramis for what he seemed to be. "Very well; we will firstvisit la Bertaudiere, "said Baisemeaux, still intending thesentinels to hear him. Then, turning to the jailer, headded: "You will take the opportunity of carrying to No. 2the few dainties I pointed out."

"So I am," said the governor; and upon that, they began toascend. The number of bolts, gratings, and locks for thissingle courtyard would have sufficed for the safety of anentire city. Aramis was neither an imaginative nor asensitive man; he had been somewhat of a poet in his youth,but his heart was hard and indifferent, as the heart ofevery man of fifty-five years of age is, who has beenfrequently and passionately attached to women in hislifetime, or rather who has been passionately loved by them.But when he placed his foot upon the worn stone steps, alongwhich so many unhappy wretches had passed, when he felthimself impregnated, as it were, with the atmosphere ofthose gloomy dungeons, moistened with tears, there could bebut little doubt he was overcome by his feelings, for hishead was bowed and his eyes became dim, as he followedBaisemeaux without a syllable.

CHAPTER 100

The Second Floor of la Bertaudiere

On the second flight of stairs, whether from fatigue oremotion, the breathing of the visitor began to fail him, andhe leaned against the wall. "Will you begin with this one?"said Baisemeaux; "for since we are going to both, it mattersvery little whether we ascend from the second to the thirdstory, or descend from the third to the second."

"No, no," exclaimed Aramis, eagerly, "higher, if you please;the one above is the more urgent." They continued theirascent. "Ask the jailer for the keys," whispered Aramis.Baisemeaux did so, took the keys, and, himself, opened thedoor of the third room. The jailer was the first to enter;he placed upon the table the provisions, which thekind-hearted governor called dainties, and then left theroom. The prisoner had not stirred; Baisemeaux then entered,while Aramis remained at the threshold, from which place hesaw a youth about eighteen years of age, who, raising hishead at the unusual noise, jumped off the bed, as heperceived the governor, and clasping his hands together,began to cry out, "My mother, my mother," in tones whichbetrayed such deep distress that Aramis, despite his commandover himself, felt a shudder pass through his frame. "Mydear boy," said Baisemeaux, endeavoring to smile, "I havebrought you a diversion and an extra, -- the one for themind, the other for the body; this gentleman has come totake your measure, and here are some preserves for yourdessert."

"Oh, monsieur," exclaimed the young man, "keep me insolitude for a year, let me have nothing but bread and waterfor a year, but tell me that at the end of a year I shallleave this place, tell me that at the end of a year I shallsee my mother again."

"But I have heard you say that your mother was very poor,and that you were very badly lodged when you were livingwith her, while here -- upon my word!"

"If she were poor, monsieur, the greater reason to restoreher only means of support to her. Badly lodged with her! Oh,monsieur, every one is always well lodged when he is free."

"At all events, since you yourself admit you have donenothing but write that unhappy distich ---- "

"But without any intention, I swear. Let me be punished --cut off the hand which wrote it, I will work with the other-- but restore my mother to me."

"My boy," said Baisemeaux, "you know very well that it doesnot depend upon me; all I can do for you is to increase yourrations, give you a glass of port wine now and then, slip ina biscuit for you between a couple of plates."

"Great heaven!" exclaimed the young man, falling backwardand rolling on the ground.

Aramis, unable to bear this scene any longer, withdrew asfar as the landing. "Unhappy, wretched man," he murmured.

"Yes, monsieur, he is indeed very wretched," said thejailer; "but it is his parents' fault.

"In what way?"

"No doubt. Why did they let him learn Latin? Too muchknowledge, you see; it is that which does harm. Now I, forinstance, can't read or write, and therefore I am not inprison." Aramis looked at the man, who seemed to think thatbeing a jailer in the Bastile was not being in prison. Asfor Baisemeaux, noticing the little effect produced by hisadvice and his port wine, he left the dungeon quite upset."You have forgotten to close the door," said the jailer.

"So I have," said Baisemeaux, "there are the keys, do you doit."

"I will solicit the pardon of that poor boy," said Aramis.

"And if you do not succeed," said Baisemeaux, "at least begthat he may be transferred to the ten-franc list, by whichboth he and I shall be gainers."

"If the other prisoner calls out for his mother in a similarmanner," said Aramis, "I prefer not to enter at all, butwill take my measure from outside."

"No fear of that, monsieur architect, the one we are nowgoing to see is as gentle as a lamb; before he could callafter his mother he must open his lips, and he never says aword."

"Let us go in, then," said Aramis, gloomily.

"Are you the architect of the prisons, monsieur?" said thejailer.

"I am."

"It is odd, then, that you are not more accustomed to allthis."

Aramis perceived that, to avoid giving rise to anysuspicions he must summon all his strength of mind to hisassistance. Baisemeaux, who carried the keys, opened thedoor. "Stay outside," he said to the jailer, "and wait forus at the bottom of the steps." The jailer obeyed andwithdrew.

Baisemeaux entered first and opened the second door himself.By the light which filtered through the iron-barred window,could be seen a handsome young man, short in stature, withclosely cut hair, and a beard beginning to grow; he wassitting on a stool, his elbow resting on an armchair, andall the upper part of his body reclining against it. Hisdress, thrown upon the bed, was of rich black velvet, and heinhaled the fresh air which blew in upon his breast througha shirt of the very finest cambric. As the governor entered,the young man turned his head with a look full ofindifference; and on recognizing Baisemeaux, he arose andsaluted him courteously. But when his eyes fell upon Aramis,who remained in the background, the latter trembled, turnedpale, and his hat, which he held in his hand, fell upon theground, as if all his muscles had become relaxed at once.Baisemeaux, habituated to the presence of his prisoner, didnot seem to share any of the sensations which Aramisexperienced, but, with all the zeal of a good servant, hebusied himself in arranging on the table the pasty andcrawfish he had brought with him. Occupied in this manner,he did not remark how disturbed his guest had become. Whenhe had finished, however, he turned to the young prisonerand said: "You are looking very well, -- are you so?"

"Quite well, I thank you, monsieur," replied the young man.

The effect of the voice was such as almost to overpowerAramis, and notwithstanding his control over himself, headvanced a few steps towards him, with his eyes wide openand his lips trembling. The movement he made was so markedthat Baisemeaux, notwithstanding his preoccupation, observedit. "This gentleman is an architect who has come to examineyour chimney," said Baisemeaux, "does it smoke?"

"Never, monsieur."

"You were saying just now," said the governor, rubbing hishands together, "that it was not possible for a man to behappy in prison; here, however, is one who is so. You havenothing to complain of, I hope?"

"Nothing."

"Do you ever feel weary?" said Aramis.

"Never."

"Ha, ha," said Baisemeaux, in a low tone of voice; "was Iright?"

"Well, my dear governor, it is impossible not to yield toevidence. Is it allowed to put any question to him?"

"As many as you like."

"Very well; be good enough to ask him if he knows why he ishere."

"This gentleman requests me to ask you," said Baisemeaux,"if you are aware of the cause of your imprisonment?"

"No, monsieur," said the young man, unaffectedly, "I amnot."

"That is hardly possible," said Aramis, carried away by hisfeelings in spite of himself; "if you were really ignorantof the cause of your detention, you would be furious."

"I was so during the early days of my imprisonment."

"Why are you not so now?"

"Because I have reflected."

"That is strange," said Aramis.

"Is it not odd?" said Baisemeaux.

"May one venture to ask you, monsieur, on what you havereflected?"

"I felt that as I had committed no crime, Heaven could notpunish me."

"What is a prison, then," inquired Aramis, "if it be not apunishment?"

"Alas! I cannot tell, said the young man; "all that I cantell you now is the very opposite of what I felt seven yearsago."

"To hear you converse, to witness your resignation, onemight almost believe that you liked your imprisonment?"

"I endure it.

"In the certainty of recovering your freedom some day, Isuppose?"

"I have no certainty; hope I have, and that is all; and yetI acknowledge that this hope becomes less every day."

"Still, why should you not again be free, since you havealready been so?"

"That is precisely the reason," replied the young man,"which prevents me expecting liberty; why should I have beenimprisoned at all if it had been intended to release meafterwards?"

"How old are you?"

"I do not know."

"What is your name?"

"I have forgotten the name by which I was called."

"Who are your parents?"

"I never knew them."

"But those who brought you up?"

"They did not call me their son."

"Did you ever love any one before coming here?"

"I loved my nurse, and my flowers."

"Was that all?"

"I also loved my valet."

"Do you regret your nurse and your valet?"

"I wept very much when they died."

"Did they die since you have been here, or before you came?"

"They died the evening before I was carried off."

"Both at the same time?"

"Yes, both at the same time."

"In what manner were you carried off?"

"A man came for me, directed me to get into a carriage,which was closed and locked, and brought me here."

"Would you be able to recognize that man again?"

"He was masked."

"Is not this an extraordinary tale?" said Baisemeaux, in alow tone of voice, to Aramis, who could hardly breathe.

"It is indeed extraordinary," he murmured.

"But what is still more extraordinary is, that he has nevertold me so much as he has just told you."

"Perhaps the reason may be that you have never questionedhim," said Aramis.

"It's possible," replied Baisemeaux; "I have no curiosity.Have you looked at the room? it's a fine one, is it not?"

"Very much so."

"A carpet ---- "

"Beautiful."

"I'll wager he had nothing like it before he came here."

"I think so, too." And then again turning towards the youngman, he said, "Do you not remember to have been visited atsome time or another by a strange lady or gentleman?"

"Yes, indeed; thrice by a woman, who each time came to thedoor in a carriage, and entered covered with a veil, whichshe raised when we were together and alone."

"Do you remember that woman?"

"Yes."

"What did she say to you?"

The young man smiled mournfully, and then replied, "Sheinquired, as you have just done, if I were happy, and if Iwere getting weary?"

"What did she do on arriving, and on leaving you?"

"She pressed me in her arms, held me in her embrace, andkissed me."

"Do you remember her?"

"Perfectly."

"Do you recall her features distinctly?"

"Yes."

"You would recognize her, then, if accident brought herbefore you, or led you into her presence?"

"Most certainly."

A flush of fleeting satisfaction passed across Aramis'sface. At this moment Baisemeaux heard the jailerapproaching. "Shall we leave?" he said, hastily, to Aramis.

Aramis, who probably had learnt all that he cared to know,replied, "When you like."

The young man saw them prepare to leave, and saluted thempolitely. Baisemeaux replied merely by a nod of the head,while Aramis, with a respect, arising perhaps from the sightof such misfortune, saluted the prisoner profoundly. Theyleft the room, Baisemeaux closing the door behind them.

"Well," said Baisemeaux, as they descended the staircase,"what do you think of it all?"

"I have discovered the secret, my dear governor," he said.

"Bah! what is the secret, then?"

"A murder was committed in that house."

"Nonsense."

"But attend; the valet and nurse died the same day."

"Well."

"And by poison. What do you think?"

"That it is very likely to be true."

"What! that that young man is an assassin?"

"Who said that? What makes you think that poor young fellowcould be an assassin?"

"The very thing I was saying. A crime was committed in hishouse," said Aramis, "and that was quite sufficient; perhapshe saw the criminals, and it was feared that he might saysomething."

"The deuce! if I only thought that ---- "

"Well?"

"I would redouble the surveillance."

"Oh, he does not seem to wish to escape."

"You do not know what prisoners are."

"Has he any books?"

"None; they are strictly prohibited, and under M. deMazarin's own hand."

"Have you the writing still?"

"Yes, my lord; would you like to look at it as you return totake your cloak?

"I should, for I like to look at autographs."

"Well, then, this one is of the most unquestionableauthenticity; there is only one erasure."

"Ah, ah! an erasure; and in what respect?"

"With respect to a figure. At first there was written: `Tobe boarded at fifty francs.'"

"As princes of the blood, in fact?"

"But the cardinal must have seen his mistake, youunderstand; for he canceled the zero, and has added a onebefore the five. But, by the by ---- "

"What?"

"You do not speak of the resemblance."

"I do not speak of it, dear M. de Baisemeaux, for a verysimple reason -- because it does not exist."

"The deuce it doesn't."

"Or, if it does exist, it is only in your own imagination;but, supposing it were to exist elsewhere, I think it wouldbe better for you not to speak about it."

"Really."

"The king, Louis XIV. -- you understand -- would beexcessively angry with you, if he were to learn that youcontributed in any way to spread the report that one of hissubjects has the effrontery to resemble him."

"It is true, quite true," said Baisemeaux, thoroughlyalarmed; "but I have not spoken of the circumstance to anyone but yourself, and you understand, monseigneur, that Iperfectly rely on your discretion."

"Oh, be easy."

"Do you still wish to see the note?"

"Certainly."

While engaged in this manner in conversation, they hadreturned to the governor's apartments; Baisemeaux took fromthe cupboard a private register, like the one he had alreadyshown Aramis, but fastened by a lock, the key which openedit being one of a small bunch of keys which Baisemeauxalways carried with him. Then placing the book upon thetable, he opened it at the letter "M," and showed Aramis thefollowing note in the column of observations: "No books atany time; all linen and clothes of the finest and bestquality to be procured; no exercise; always the same jailer;no communications with any one. Musical instruments; everyliberty and every indulgence which his welfare may require,to be boarded at fifteen francs. M. de Baisemeaux can claimmore if the fifteen francs be not sufficient."

"Ah," said Baisemeaux, "now I think of it, I shall claimit."

Aramis shut the book. "Yes," he said, "it is indeed M. deMazarin's handwriting; I recognize it well. Now, my deargovernor," he continued, as if this last communication hadexhausted his interest, "let us now turn to our own littleaffairs."

"Well, what time for repayment do you wish me to take? Fixit yourself."

"There need not be any particular period fixed; give me asimple acknowledgment for one hundred and fifty thousandfrancs."

"When to be made payable?"

"When I require it; but, you understand, I shall only wishit when you yourself do."

"Oh, I am quite easy on that score," said Baisemeaux,smiling; "but I have already given you two receipts."

"Which I now destroy," said Aramis; and after having shownthe two receipts to Baisemeaux, he destroyed them. Overcomeby so great a mark of confidence, Baisemeaux unhesitatinglywrote out an acknowledgment of a debt of one hundred andfifty thousand francs, payable at the pleasure of theprelate. Aramis, who had, by glancing over the governor'sshoulder, followed the pen as he wrote, put theacknowledgment into his pocket without seeming to have readit, which made Baisemeaux perfectly easy. "Now," saidAramis, "you will not be angry with me if I were to carryoff one of your prisoners?"

"What do you mean?"

"By obtaining his pardon, of course. Have I not already toldyou that I took a great interest in poor Seldon?"

"Yes, quite true, you did so."

"Well?"

"That is your affair; do as you think proper. I see you havean open hand, and an arm that can reach a great way."

"Adieu, adieu." And Aramis left, carrying with him thegovernor's best wishes.

CHAPTER 101

The Two Friends

At the very time M. de Baisemeaux was showing Aramis theprisoners in the Bastile, a carriage drew up at Madame deBelliere's door, and, at that still early hour, a youngwoman alighted, her head muffled in a silk hood. When theservants announced Madame Vanel to Madame de Belliere, thelatter was engaged, or rather was absorbed, in reading, aletter, which she hurriedly concealed. She had hardlyfinished her morning toilette, her maid being still in thenext room. At the name ---at the footsteps of MargueriteVanel -- Madame de Belliere ran to meet her. She fancied shecould detect in her friend's eyes a brightness which wasneither that of health nor of pleasure. Marguerite embracedher, pressed her hands, and hardly allowed her time tospeak. "Dearest," she said, "have you forgotten me? Have youquite given yourself up to the pleasures of the court?"

"I have not even seen the marriage fetes."

"What are you doing with yourself, then?"

"I am getting ready to leave for Belliere."

"For Belliere?"

"Yes."

"You are becoming rustic in your tastes, then; I delight tosee you so disposed. But you are pale."

"No, I am perfectly well."

"So much the better; I was becoming uneasy about you. You donot know what I have been told."

"Well, then, it is said that -- no, I shall never be able totell you."

"Do not let us talk about it, then," said Madame deBelliere, who detected the ill-nature that was concealed byall these prefaces, yet felt the most anxious curiosity onthe subject.

"Well, then, my dear marquise, it is said that, for sometime past, you no longer continue to regret Monsieur deBelliere as you used to."

"It is an ill-natured report, Marguerite. I do regret andshall always regret, my husband; but it is now two yearssince he died. I am only twenty-eight years old, and mygrief at his loss ought not always to control every actionand thought of my life. You, Marguerite, who are the modelof a wife, would not believe me if I were to say so."

"Why not? Your heart is so soft and yielding." she said,spitefully.

"Yours is so too, Marguerite, and yet I did not perceivethat you allowed yourself to be overcome by grief when yourheart was wounded." These words were in direct allusion toMarguerite's rupture with the superintendent, and were alsoa veiled but direct reproach made against her friend'sheart.

As if she only awaited this signal to discharge her shaft,Marguerite exclaimed, "Well, Elise, it is said you are inlove." And she looked fixedly at Madame de Belliere, whoblushed against her will.

"Women never escape slander," replied the marquise, after amoment's pause.

"No one slanders you, Elise."

"What! -- people say that I am in love, and yet they do notslander me!"

"In the first place, if it be true, it is no slander, butsimply a scandal-loving report. In the next place -- for youdid not allow me to finish what I was saying -- the publicdoes not assert that you have abandoned yourself to thispassion. It represents you, on the contrary, as a virtuousbut loving woman, defending yourself with claws and teeth,shutting yourself up in your own house as in a fortress; inother respects, as impenetrable as that of Danae,notwithstanding Danae's tower was made of brass."

"You are witty, Marguerite," said Madame de Belliere,angrily.

"You always flatter me, Elise. In short, however you arereported to be incorruptible and unapproachable. You cannotdecide whether the world is calumniating you or not; butwhat is it you are musing about while I am speaking to you?"

"I?"

"Yes; you are blushing and do not answer me."

"I was trying," said the marquise, raising her beautifuleyes brightened with an indication of growing temper, "I wastrying to discover to what you could possibly have alluded,you who are so learned in mythological subjects in comparingme to Danae."

"You were trying to guess that?" said Marguerite, laughing.

"Yes; do you not remember that at the convent, when we weresolving our problems in arithmetic -- ah! what I have totell you is learned also, but it is my turn -- do you notremember, that if one of the terms were given, we were tofind out the other? Therefore do you guess now?"

"I cannot conjecture what you mean."

"And yet nothing is more simple. You pretend that I am inlove, do you not?"

"So it is said."

"Very well, it is not said, I suppose, that I am in lovewith an abstraction. There must surely be a name mentionedin this report."

"Certainly, a name is mentioned."

"Very well; it is not surprising, then, that I should try toguess this name, since you do not tell it."

"My dear marquise, when I saw you blush, I did not think youwould have to spend much time in conjectures."

"It was the word Danae which you used that surprised me.Danae means a shower of gold, does it not?"

"That is to say that the Jupiter of Danae changed himselfinto a shower of gold for her."

"My lover, then, he whom you assign me ---- "

"I beg your pardon; I am your friend, and assign you noone."

"That may be; but those who are ill disposed towards me."

"Do you wish to hear the name?"

"I have been waiting this half hour for it."

"Well, then, you shall hear it. Do not be shocked; he is aman high in power."

"Good," said the marquise, as she clenched her hands like apatient at the approach of the knife.

"He is a very wealthy man," continued Marguerite; "thewealthiest, it may be. In a word, it is ---- "

The marquise closed her eyes for a moment.

"It is the Duke of Buckingham," said Marguerite, burstinginto laughter. This perfidy had been calculated with extremeability; the name that was pronounced, instead of the namewhich the marquise awaited, had precisely the same effectupon her as the badly sharpened axes that had hacked,without destroying, Messieurs de Chalais and De Thou uponthe scaffold. She recovered herself, however, and said, "Iwas perfectly right in saying you were a witty woman, foryou are making the time pass away most agreeably. This jokeis a most amusing one, for I have never seen the Duke ofBuckingham."

"Never?" said Marguerite, restraining her laughter.

"I have never even left my own house since the duke has beenat Paris."

"Oh!" resumed Madame Vanel, stretching out her foot towardsa paper which was lying on the carpet near the window; "itis not necessary for people to see each other, since theycan write." The marquise trembled, for this paper was theenvelope of the letter she was reading as her friend hadentered, and was sealed with the superintendent's arms. Asshe leaned back on the sofa on which she was sitting, Madamede Belliere covered the paper with the thick folds of herlarge silk dress, and so concealed it.

"Come, Marguerite, tell me, is it to tell me all thesefoolish reports that you have come to see me so early in theday?"

"No, I came to see you, in the first place, and to remindyou of those habits of our earlier days, so delightful toremember, when we used to wander about together atVincennes, and, sitting beneath an oak, or in some sylvanshade, used to talk of those we loved, and who loved us."

"Do you propose that we should go out together now?"

"My carriage is here, and I have three hours at mydisposal."

"I am not dressed yet, Marguerite; but if you wish that weshould talk together, we can, without going to the woods ofVincennes, find in my own garden here, beautiful trees,shady groves, a greensward covered with daisies and violets,the perfume of which can be perceived from where we aresitting."

"I repeat again, Marguerite, my heart is yours just as muchin this room, or beneath the lime-trees in the garden here,as it would be under the oaks in the wood yonder."

"It is not the same thing for me. In approaching Vincennes,marquise, my ardent aspirations approach nearer to thatobject towards which they have for some days past beendirected." The marquise suddenly raised her head. "Are yousurprised, then, that I am still thinking of Saint-Mande?"

"Of Saint-Mande?" exclaimed Madame de Belliere; and thelooks of both women met each other like two resistlessswords.

"You, so proud!" said the marquise, disdainfully.

"I, so proud!" replied Madame Vanel. "Such is my nature. Ido not forgive neglect -- I cannot endure infidelity. When Ileave any one who weeps at my abandonment, I feel inducedstill to love him; but when others forsake me and laugh attheir infidelity, I love distractedly."

Madame de Belliere could not restrain an involuntarymovement.

"She is jealous," said Marguerite to herself.

"Then," continued the marquise, "you are quite enamored ofthe Duke of Buckingham -- I mean of M. Fouquet?" Elise feltthe allusion, and her blood seemed to congeal in her heart."And you wished to go to Vincennes, -- to Saint-Mande,even?"

"I hardly know what I wished: you would have advised meperhaps."

"In what respect?"

"You have often done so."

"Most certainly I should not have done so in the presentinstance, for I do not forgive as you do. I am less loving,perhaps; when my heart has been once wounded, it remains soalways."

"But M. Fouquet has not wounded you," said Marguerite Vanel,with the most perfect simplicity.

"You perfectly understand what I mean. M. Fouquet has notwounded me; I do not know of either obligation or injuryreceived at his hands, but you have reason to complain ofhim. You are my friend, and I am afraid I should not adviseyou as you would like."

"Ah! you are prejudging the case."

"The sighs you spoke of just now are more than indications."

"You overwhelm me," said the young woman suddenly, as ifcollecting her whole strength, like a wrestler preparing fora last struggle; "you take only my evil dispositions and myweaknesses into calculation, and do not speak of my pure andgenerous feelings. If, at this moment, I feel instinctivelyattracted towards the superintendent, if I even make anadvance to him, which, I confess, is very probable, mymotive for it is, that M. Fouquet's fate deeply affects me,and because he is, in my opinion, one of the mostunfortunate men living."

"Ah!" said the marquise, placing her hand upon her heart,"something new, then, has occurred?"

"Do you not know it?"

"I am utterly ignorant of everything about him," said Madamede Belliere, with the poignant anguish that suspends thoughtand speech, and even life itself.

"In the first place, then, the king's favor is entirelywithdrawn from M. Fouquet, and conferred on M. Colbert."

"So it is stated."

"It is very clear, since the discovery of the plot ofBelle-Isle."

"I was told that the discovery of the fortifications therehad turned out to M. Fouquet's honor."

Marguerite began to laugh in so cruel a manner that Madamede Belliere could at that moment have delightedly plunged adagger in her bosom. "Dearest," continued Marguerite, "thereis no longer any question of M. Fouquet's honor; his safetyis concerned. Before three days are passed the ruin of thesuperintendent will be complete."

"Stay," said the marquise, in her turn smiling, "that isgoing a little too fast."

"I said three days, because I wish to deceive myself with ahope; but probably the catastrophe will be complete withintwenty-four hours."

"Why so?"

"For the simplest of all reasons, -- that M. Fouquet has nomore money."

"In matters of finance, my dear Marguerite, some are withoutmoney to-day, who to-morrow can procure millions."

"That might be M. Fouquet's case when he had two wealthy andclever friends who amassed money for him, and wrung it fromevery possible or impossible source; but those friends aredead."

"Money does not die, Marguerite; it may be concealed, but itcan be looked for, bought and found."

"You see things on the bright side, and so much the betterfor you. It is really very unfortunate that you are not theEgeria of M. Fouquet; you might now show him the sourcewhence he could obtain the millions which the king asked himfor yesterday."

"M. Fouquet, I should think, must certainly have fourmillions," she replied, courageously.

"If he has those which the king requires to-day," saidMarguerite, "he will not, perhaps, possess those which theking will demand in a month or so."

"The king will exact money from him again, then?"

"No doubt; and that is my reason for saying that the ruin ofpoor M. Fouquet is inevitable. Pride will induce him tofurnish the money, and when he has no more, he will fall."

"It is true," said the marquise, trembling; "the plan is abold one; but tell me, does M. Colbert hate M. Fouquet sovery much?"

"I think he does not like him. M. Colbert is powerful; heimproves on close acquaintance, he has gigantic ideas, astrong will, and discretion, he will rise."

"He will be superintendent?"

"It is probable. Such is the reason, my dear marquise, why Ifelt myself impressed in favor of that poor man, who onceloved, and even adored me; and why, when I see him sounfortunate, I forgive his infidelity which I have reason tobelieve he also regrets; and why, moreover, I should nothave been disinclined to afford him some consolation, orsome good advice; he would have understood the step I hadtaken, and would have thought kindly of me for it. It isgratifying to be loved, you know. Men value love more highlywhen they are no longer blinded by its influence."

The marquise, bewildered and overcome by these cruelattacks, which had been calculated with the greatest nicetyand precision, hardly knew what answer to return; she evenseemed to have lost all power of thought. Her perfidiousfriend's voice had assumed the most affectionate tone; shespoke as a woman, but concealed the instincts of a wolf.

"Well," said Madame de Belliere, who had a vague hope thatMarguerite would cease to overwhelm a vanquished enemy, "whydo you not go and see M. Fouquet?"

"Decidedly, marquise, you have made me reflect. No, it wouldbe unbecoming for me to make the first advance. M. Fouquetno doubt loves me, but he is too proud. I cannot exposemyself to an affront.... besides I have my husband toconsider. You tell me nothing? Very well, I shall consult M.Colbert on the subject." Marguerite rose smilingly, asthough to take leave, but the marquise had not the strengthto imitate her. Marguerite advanced a few paces, in orderthat she might continue to enjoy the humiliating grief inwhich her rival was plunged, and then said, suddenly, --"You do not accompany me to the door, then?" The marquiserose, pale and almost lifeless, without thinking of theenvelope, which had occupied her attention so greatly at thecommencement of the conversation, and which was revealed atthe first step she took. She then opened the door of heroratory, and without even turning her head towardsMarguerite Vanel, entered it, closing the door after her.Marguerite said, or rather muttered a few words, whichMadame de Belliere did not even hear. As soon, however, asthe marquise had disappeared, her envious enemy, not beingable to resist the desire to satisfy herself that hersuspicions were well founded, advanced stealthily towards itlike a panther and seized the envelope. "Ah!" she said,gnashing her teeth, "it was indeed a letter from M. Fouquetshe was reading when I arrived," and then darted out of theroom. During this interval, the marquise, having arrivedbehind the rampart, as it were, of her door, felt that herstrength was failing her; for a moment she remained rigid,pale and motionless as a statue, and then, like a statueshaken on its base by an earthquake, tottered and fellinanimate on the carpet. The noise of the fall resounded atthe same moment as the rolling of Marguerite's carriageleaving the hotel.

CHAPTER 102

Madame de Belliere's Plate

The blow had been the more painful on account of its beingunexpected. It was some time before the marquise recoveredherself; but once recovered, she began to reflect upon theevents so heartlessly announced to her. She thereforereturned, at the risk even of losing her life in the way, tothat train of ideas which her relentless friend had forcedher to pursue. Treason, then -- deep menaces, concealedunder the semblance of public interest -- such wereColbert's maneuvers. A detestable delight at an approachingdownfall, untiring efforts to attain this object, means ofseduction no less wicked than the crime itself -- such werethe weapons Marguerite employed. The crooked atoms ofDescartes triumphed; to the man without compassion wasunited a woman without heart. The marquise perceived, withsorrow rather than indignation, that the king was anaccomplice in the plot which betrayed the duplicity of LouisXIII. in his advanced age, and the avarice of Mazarin at aperiod of life when he had not had the opportunity ofgorging himself with French gold. The spirit of thuscourageous woman soon resumed its energy, no longeroverwhelmed by indulgence in compassionate lamentations. Themarquise was not one to weep when action was necessary, norto waste time in bewailing a misfortune as long as meansstill existed of relieving it. For some minutes she buriedher face in her cold fingers, and then, raising her head,rang for her attendants with a steady hand, and with agesture betraying a fixed determination of purpose. Herresolution was taken.

"Is everything prepared for my departure?" she inquired ofone of her female attendants who entered.

"Yes, madame; but it was not expected that your ladyshipwould leave for Belliere for the next few days."

"All my jewels and articles of value, then, are packed up?"

"Yes, madame; but hitherto we have been in the habit ofleaving them in Paris. Your ladyship does not generally takeyour jewels with you into the country."

"But they are all in order, you say?"

"Yes, in your ladyship's own room."

"The gold plate?"

"In the chest."

"And the silver plate?"

"In the great oak closet."

The marquise remained silent for a few moments, and thensaid calmly, "Let my goldsmith be sent for."

Her attendants quitted the room to execute the order. Themarquise, however, had entered her own room, and wasinspecting her casket of jewels with the greatest attention.Never, until now, had she bestowed such close attention uponriches in which women take so much pride; never, until now,had she looked at her jewels except for the purpose ofmaking a selection, according to their settings or theircolors. On this occasion, however, she admired the size ofthe rubies and the brilliancy of the diamonds; she grievedover every blemish and every defect; she thought the goldlight, and the stones wretched. The goldsmith, as heentered, found her thus occupied. "M. Faucheux " she said,"I believe you supplied me with my gold service?"

"I did, your ladyship."

"I do not now remember the amount of the account."

"Of the new service, madame, or of that which M. de Bellierepresented to you on your marriage? for I have furnishedboth."

"First of all, the new one."

"The covers, the goblets, and the dishes, with their covers,the eau-epergne, the ice-pails, the dishes for thepreserves, and the tea and coffee urns, cost your ladyshipsixty thousand francs."

"No more?"

"Your ladyship thought the account very high."

"Yes, yes; I remember, in fact, that it was dear; but it wasthe workmanship, I suppose?"

"Yes, madame; the designs, the chasings -- all newpatterns."

"What proportion of the cost does the workmanship form? Donot hesitate to tell me."

"A third of its value, madame."

"There is the other service, the old one, that whichbelonged to my husband?"

"Yes, madame; there is less workmanship in that than in theother. Its intrinsic value does not exceed thirty thousandfrancs."

"Thirty thousand," murmured the marquise. "But, M. Faucheux,there is also the service which belonged to my mother; allthat massive plate which I did not wish to part with, onaccount of the associations connected with it."

"Ah! madame, that would indeed be an excellent resource forthose who, unlike your ladyship, might not be in a positionto keep their plate. In chasing that they worked in solidmetal. But that service is no longer in fashion. Its weightis its only advantage."

"That is all I care about. How much does it weigh?"

"Fifty thousand livres at the very least. I do not allude tothe enormous vases for the buffet, which alone weigh fivethousand livres, or ten thousand the pair."

"Let us now turn to another subject," said Madame de,Belliere; and she opened one of her jewel-boxes.

"I recognize these emeralds," said M. Faucheux; "for it wasI who had the setting of them. They are the most beautifulin the whole court. No, I am mistaken; Madame de Chatillonhas the most beautiful set; she had them from Messieurs deGuise; but your set madame, comes next."

"What are they worth?"

"Mounted?"

"No; supposing I wished to sell them."

"I know very well who would buy them," exclaimed M.Faucheux.

"That is the very thing I ask. They could be sold, then?"

"All your jewels could be sold, madame. It is well knownthat you possess the most beautiful jewels in Paris. You arenot changeable in your tastes; when you make a purchase itis of the very best; and what you purchase you do not partwith."

"What could these emeralds be sold for, then?"

"A hundred and thirty thousand francs."

The marquise wrote down upon her tablets the amount whichthe jeweler mentioned. "The ruby necklace?" she said.

"Are they balas-rubies, madame?"

"Here they are."

"They are beautiful -- magnificent. I did not know that yourladyship had these stones."

The jeweler took his magnifying-glass and scales, weighedand inspected them, and silently made his calculations."These stones," he said, "must have cost your ladyship anincome of forty thousand francs."

"You value them at eight hundred thousand francs?"

"Nearly so."

"It is about what I imagined ---but the settings are notincluded?"

"No, madame; but if I were called upon to sell or to buy, Ishould be satisfied with the gold of the settings alone asmy profit upon the transaction. I should make a goodtwenty-five thousand francs."

"An agreeable sum."

"Very much so, madame."

"Will you accept that profit, then, on condition ofconverting the jewels into money?"

"But you do not intend to sell your diamonds, I suppose,madame?" exclaimed the bewildered jeweler.

"Silence, M. Faucheux, do not disturb yourself about that;give me an answer simply. You are an honorable man, withwhom my family has dealt for thirty years; you knew myfather and mother, whom your own father and mother served. Iaddress you as a friend; will you accept the gold of thesettings in return for a sum of ready money to be placed inmy hands?"

"Eight hundred thousand francs! it is enormous."

"I know it."

"Impossible to find."

"Not so."

"But reflect, madame, upon the effect which will be producedby the sale of your jewels."

"No one need know it. You can get sets of false jewels madefor me, similar to the real. Do not answer a word; I insistupon it. Sell them separately, sell the stones only."

"In that way it is easy. Monsieur is looking out for somesets of jewels as well as single stones for Madame'stoilette. There will be a competition for them. I can easilydispose of six hundred thousand francs' worth to Monsieur. Iam certain yours are the most beautiful."

"When can you do so?"

"In less than three days' time."

"Very well, the remainder you will dispose of among privateindividuals. For the present, make me out a contract ofsale, payment to be made in four days."

"I entreat you to reflect, madame; for if you force thesale, you will lose a hundred thousand francs."

"If necessary, I will lose two hundred; I wish everything tobe settled this evening. Do you accept?"

"I do, your ladyship. I will not conceal from you that Ishall make fifty thousand francs by the transaction."

"So much the better for you. In what way shall I have themoney?"

"Either in gold, or in bills of the bank of Lyons, payableat M. Colbert's."

"I agree," said the marquise, eagerly; "return home andbring the sum in question in notes, as soon as possible."

"Yes, madame, but for Heaven's sake ---- "

"Not a word, M. Faucheux. By the by, I was forgetting thesilver plate. What is the value of that which I have?"

"Fifty thousand francs, madame."

"That makes a million," said the marquise to herself. "M.Faucheux, you will take away with you both the gold andsilver plate. I can assign, as a pretext, that I wish itremodelled on patterns more in accordance with my own taste.Melt it down, and return me its value in money, at once."

"It shall be done, your ladyship."

"You will be good enough to place the money in a chest, anddirect one of your clerks to accompany the chest, andwithout my servants seeing him; and order him to wait for mein a carriage."

"In Madame de Faucheux's carriage?" said the jeweler.

"If you will allow it, and I will call for it at yourhouse."

"Certainly, your ladyship."

"I will direct some of my servants to convey the plate toyour house." The marquise rung. "Let the small van be placedat M. Faucheux's disposal," she said. The jeweler bowed andleft the house, directing that the van should follow himclosely, saying aloud that the marquise was about to haveher plate melted down in order to have other platemanufactured of a more modern style. Three hours afterwardsshe went to M. Faucheux's house and received from him eighthundred thousand francs in gold inclosed in a chest, whichone of the clerks could hardly carry towards MadameFaucheux's carriage -- for Madame Faucheux kept hercarriage. As the daughter of a president of accounts, shehad brought a marriage portion of thirty thousand crowns toher husband, who was syndic of the goldsmiths. These thirtythousand crowns had become very fruitful during twentyyears. The jeweler, though a millionaire, was a modest man.He had purchased a substantial carriage, built in 1648, tenyears after the king's birth. This carriage, or rather houseupon wheels, excited the admiration of the whole quarter inwhich he resided -- it was covered with allegoricalpaintings, and clouds scattered over with stars. Themarquise entered this somewhat extraordinary vehicle,sitting opposite the clerk, who endeavored to put his kneesout of the way, afraid even of touching the marquise'sdress. It was the clerk, too, who told the coachman, who wasvery proud of having a marquise to drive, to take the roadto Saint-Mande.

CHAPTER 103

The Dowry

Monsieur Faucheux's horses were serviceable animals, withthickset knees, and legs that had some difficulty in moving.Like the carriage, they belonged to the earlier part of thecentury. They were not as fleet as the English horses of M.Fouquet, and consequently took two hours to get toSaint-Mande. Their progress, it might be said, was majestic.Majesty, however, precludes hurry. The marquise stopped thecarriage at the door so well known to her, although she hadseen it only once, under circumstances, it will beremembered, no less painful than those which brought her nowto it again. She drew a key from her pocket, and inserted itin the lock, pushed open the door, which noiselessly yieldedto her touch, and directed the clerk to carry the chestupstairs to the first floor. The weight of the chest was sogreat that the clerk was obliged to get the coachman toassist him with it. They placed it in a small cabinet,anteroom, or boudoir rather, adjoining the saloon where weonce saw M. Fouquet at the marquise's feet. Madame deBelliere gave the coachman a louis, smiled gracefully at theclerk, and dismissed them both. She closed the door afterthem, and waited in the room, alone and barricaded. Therewas no servant to be seen about the rooms, but everythingwas prepared as though some invisible genius had divined thewishes and desires of an expected guest. The fire was laid,candles in the candelabra, refreshments upon the table,books scattered about, fresh-cut flowers in the vases. Onemight almost have imagined it an enchanted house. Themarquise lighted the candles, inhaled the perfume of theflowers, sat down, and was soon plunged in profound thought.Her deep musings, melancholy though they were, were notuntinged with a certain vague joy. Spread out before her wasa treasure, a million wrung from her fortune as a gleanerplucks the blue corn-flower from her crown of flowers. Sheconjured up the sweetest dreams. Her principal thought, andone that took precedence of all others, was to devise meansof leaving this money for M. Fouquet without his possiblylearning from whom the gift had come. This idea, naturallyenough, was the first to present itself to her mind. Butalthough, on reflection, it appeared difficult to carry out,she did not despair of success. She would then ring tosummon M. Fouquet and make her escape, happier than if,instead of having given a million, she had herself foundone. But, being there, and having seen the boudoir socoquettishly decorated that it might almost be said theleast particle of dust had but the moment before beenremoved by the servants; having observed the drawing-room,so perfectly arranged that it might almost be said herpresence there had driven away the fairies who were itsoccupants, she asked herself if the glance or gaze of thosewhom she had displaced -- whether spirits, fairies, elves,or human creatures -- had not already recognized her. Tosecure success, it was necessary that some steps should beseriously taken, and it was necessary also that thesuperintendent should comprehend the serious position inwhich he was placed, in order to yield compliance with thegenerous fancies of a woman; all the fascinations of aneloquent friendship would be required to persuade him, and,should this be insufficient, the maddening influence of adevoted passion, which, in its resolute determination tocarry conviction, would not be turned aside. Was not thesuperintendent, indeed, known for his delicacy and dignityof feeling? Would he allow himself to accept from any womanthat of which she had stripped herself? No! He would resist,and if any voice in the world could overcome his resistance,it would be the voice of the woman he loved.

Another doubt, and that a cruel one, suggested itself toMadame de Belliere with a sharp, acute pain, like a daggerthrust. Did he really love her? Would that volatile mind,that inconstant heart, be likely to be fixed for a moment,even were it to gaze upon an angel? Was it not the same withFouquet, notwithstanding his genius and his uprightness ofconduct, as with those conquerors on the field of battle whoshed tears when they have gained a victory?" I must learn ifit be so, and must judge of that for myself," said themarquise. "Who can tell whether that heart, so coveted, isnot common in its impulses, and full of alloy? Who can tellif that mind, when the touchstone is applied to it, will notbe found of a mean and vulgar character? Come, come," shesaid, "this is doubting and hesitating too much -- to theproof." She looked at the timepiece. "It is now seveno'clock," she said; "he must have arrived, it is the hourfor signing his papers." With a feverish impatience she roseand walked towards the mirror, in which she smiled with aresolute smile of devotedness; she touched the spring anddrew out the handle of the bell. Then, as if exhaustedbeforehand by the struggle she had just undergone, she threwherself on her knees, in utter abandonment, before a largecouch, in which she buried her face in her trembling hands.Ten minutes afterwards she heard the spring of the doorsound. The door moved upon invisible hinges, and Fouquetappeared. He looked pale, and seemed bowed down by theweight of some bitter reflection. He did not hurry, butsimply came at the summons. The pre-occupation of his mindmust indeed have been very great, that a man so devoted topleasure, for whom indeed pleasure meant everything, shouldobey such a summons so listlessly. The previous night, infact, fertile in melancholy ideas, had sharpened hisfeatures, generally so noble in their indifference ofexpression, and had traced dark lines of anxiety around hiseyes. Handsome and noble he still was, and the melancholyexpression of his mouth, a rare expression with men, gave anew character to his features, by which his youth seemed tobe renewed. Dressed in black, the lace in front of his chestmuch disarranged by his feverishly restless hand, the looksof the superintendent, full of dreamy reflection, were fixedupon the threshold of the room which he had so frequentlyapproached in search of expected happiness. This gloomygentleness of manner, this smiling sadness of expression,which had replaced his former excessive joy, produced anindescribable effect upon Madame de Belliere, who wasregarding him at a distance.

A woman's eye can read the face of the man she loves, itsevery feeling of pride, its every expression of suffering;it might almost be said that Heaven has graciously grantedto women, on account of their very weakness, more than ithas accorded to other creatures. They can conceal their ownfeelings from a man, but from them no man can conceal his.The marquise divined in a single glance the whole weight ofthe unhappiness of the superintendent. She divined a nightpassed without sleep, a day passed in deceptions. From thatmoment she was firm in her own strength, and she felt thatshe loved Fouquet beyond everything else. She arose andapproached him, saying, "You wrote to me this morning to sayyou were beginning to forget me, and that I, whom you hadnot seen lately, had no doubt ceased to think of you. I havecome to undeceive you, monsieur, and the more completely so,because there is one thing I can read in your eyes."

"What is that, madame?" said Fouquet, astonished.

"That you have never loved me so much as at this moment; inthe same manner you can read, in my present step towardsyou, that I have not forgotten you."

"Oh! madame," said Fouquet, whose face was for a momentlighted up by a sudden gleam of joy, "you are indeed anangel, and no man can suspect you. All he can do is tohumble himself before you and entreat forgiveness."

"Your forgiveness is granted, then," said the marquise.Fouquet was about to throw himself upon his knees. "No, no,"she said, "sit here by my side. Ah! that is an evil thoughtwhich has just crossed your mind."

"How do you detect it, madame?"

"By the smile that has just marred the expression of yourcountenance, Be candid, and tell me what your thought was --no secrets between friends."

"Tell me, then, madame, why have you been so harsh thesethree or four months past?"

"Harsh?"

"Yes; did you not forbid me to visit you?"

"Alas!" said Madame de Belliere, sighing, "because yourvisit to me was the cause of your being visited with a greatmisfortune; because my house is watched; because the sameeyes that have seen you already might see you again; becauseI think it less dangerous for you that I should come herethan that you should come to my house; and, lastly, becauseI know you to be already unhappy enough not to wish toincrease your unhappiness further."

Fouquet started, for these words recalled all the anxietiesconnected with his office of superintendent -- he who, forthe last few minutes, had indulged in all the wildaspirations of the lover. "I unhappy?" he said, endeavoringto smile: "indeed, marquise, you will almost make me believeI am so, judging from your own sadness. Are your beautifuleyes raised upon me merely in pity? I was looking foranother expression from them."

"It is not I who am sad, monsieur; look in the mirror, there-- it is yourself."

"It is true I am somewhat pale, marquise; but it is fromoverwork; the king yesterday required a supply of money fromme."

"Yes, four millions, I am aware of it."

"You know it?" exclaimed Fouquet, in a tone of surprise;"how can you have learnt it? It was after the departure ofthe queen, and in the presence of one person only, that theking ---- "

"You perceive that I do know it; is not that sufficient?Well, go on, monsieur, the money the king has required youto supply ---- "

"You understand, marquise, that I have been obliged toprocure it, then to get it counted, afterwards registered --altogether a long affair. Since Monsieur de Mazarin's death,financial affairs occasion some little fatigue andembarrassment. My administration is somewhat overtaxed, andthis is the reason why I have not slept during the pastnight."

"So that you have the amount?" inquired the marquise, withsome anxiety.

"It would indeed be strange, marquise," replied Fouquet,cheerfully, "if a superintendent of finances were not tohave a paltry four millions in his coffers."

"Yes, yes, I believe you either have, or will have them."

"What do you mean by saying I shall have them?"

"It is not very long since you were required to furnish twomillions."

"On the contrary, to me it seems almost an age; but do notlet us talk of money matters any longer."

"On the contrary, we will continue to speak of them, forthat is my only reason for coming to see you."

"I am at a loss to compass your meaning," said thesuperintendent, whose eyes began to express an anxiouscuriosity.

"Tell me, monsieur, is the office of superintendent apermanent position?"

"You surprise me, marchioness, for you speak as if you hadsome motive or interest in putting the question."

"My reason is simple enough; I am desirous of placing somemoney in your hands, and naturally I wish to know if you arecertain of your post."

"Really, marquise, I am at a loss what to reply; I cannotconceive your meaning."

"Seriously, then, dear M. Fouquet, funds which somewhatembarrass me. I am tired of investing my money in land, andam anxious to intrust it to some friend who will turn it toaccount."

"Surely it does not press," said M. Fouquet.

"On the contrary, it is very pressing."

"Very well, we will talk of that by and by."

"By and by will not do, for my money is there," returned themarquise, pointing out the coffer to the superintendent, andshowing him, as she opened it, the bundles of notes andheaps of gold. Fouquet, who had risen from his seat at thesame moment as Madame de Belliere, remained for a momentplunged in thought; then suddenly starting back, he turnedpale, and sank down in his chair, concealing his face in his